Wonderful AI
by Ze Dybbuk
Summary: After years of personal disappointments, Luigi has reached his breaking point. He's ready to take his own life. Can the help of a few friends help him understand all that he's got to live for? Parody of It's a Wonderful Life. Metafic. Now Finished!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Luigi/Pit/Nintendo/anything. Seriously.  
I'd also like to mention that any characters in this story who resemble real people are used in a 100% ficticious way. Please don't sue me and all that.

**Rated:** For heavy themes, including suggestions of suicide and general angstiness. Fun stuff. But on the upside, no swearing!

**Author's Note:** This is a parody of _It's a Wonderful Life_, and hey, granted that, I really wanted to have it done for Christmas. But I was really busy, and that didn't happen, so here, you can have it now. Luigi really does have a few things in common with George Baily, what with having a more heroic brother and all. And yes, Pit's the guardian angel. Go figure.

Metafic is a type of AU where the characters meet/live amongst their real-life creators. In the case of this story, it's the later.

**EDIT:** I know I've done my wacky crackfics in the past. This is not one of those. So let me extend an apology right now to anybody who came here expecting funny, because the funny is either not going to be here, or only in small and subtle doses. This story is supposed to be more dramatic/quasi-serious, or, ffffff, as quasi-serious as a freaking fanfiction can ever hope to possibly be. I'll do more crackfics later, pinky swear.

* * *

The streets of Kyoto were whipped with their common frustrations. People ran. They had many reasons, but often these were the same. Tight deadlines, traffic problems; different flavors of the same obligations. Along the way they snapped at one another, hurriedly exchanging important news. Over head the sky was low and matte white, threatening snow, and this alone was the only truly uncommon item among their discussions.

He shuffled low to the ground, dodging ill-placed legs with a skill that came from a lifetime of practice. Passerby didn't see him. They couldn't. He was invisible to anyone who didn't know the sterile langue of computers through which he was written into existence.

Luigi stiffened a moment, looked over his shoulder and acknowledged that he was truly alone. His coworkers rarely adventured outdoors, and the reasons why were obvious. It was uncomfortable. All of them were numb to natural phenomena such as the wind and the cold, and that coupled with their invisibility to strangers made the experience very strange indeed. That it was better by far to remain at company HQ was agreed upon all but unanimously.

So he was unlikely to be followed. He turned back around, wishing he could relax a bit. The simple plan wasn't enough. He would need some time to work out the details.

Unsurprisingly, the topic was avoided in conversation. Many of the programmers believed that the characters were all immortal (or at least, Luigi thought begrudgingly, that's what they insistently, desperately told them all), and that might have seemed true within the confines of the games themselves, but outside it was much easier for them to forget. Luigi remembered Mario and Link once, long ago, getting into some ridiculous squabble that ended with Mario being unceremoniously hurled from the roof of the building. He hadn't so much as bruised at hitting the ground, of course, but it didn't come as a surprise to anyone but him. Physical attacks were completely superficial. The only _truly_ dangerous things were attacks against their programmed scripts. That was what Luigi was going to have to do.

The problem was how. The programmers were the farthest thing from morbid by nature, so they didn't often sit around and discuss all the ways that their characters could possibly be maimed. The closest example, Luigi thought, was years ago, when Mr. Tajiri, white-faced, had come around and begged his colleagues not to perform the famous Pokémon glitch, for fear that it might hurt Red.

Luigi wasn't naïve enough, as some of his colleagues were, to suppose that Red's glitch was the only one in existence. He had seen the others catch Mr. Tajiri later that day, hissing hoarse whispers that his warning may very well have done more harm than good…

He didn't know any applicable glitches, but Luigi was undeterred. He was only seeking to destroy his own script, and a glitch was only one means to that end. There were others.

Containers of water, for example, were strictly forbidden inside HQ, and Luigi figured there had to be a reason why. There was a gutter nearby whose few inches of clammy water had developed a thin skin of ice in the cold. A passing bus cracked the surface. He was intrigued.

Knuckles resting against the concrete curb, he stared and wondered. He wondered about a lot of things, really, which was something he had been trying to avoid. Wondering might mean dredging up memories. Worse, wondering might mean second thoughts. He was tired, though. A bit too tired to wonder, and _certainly_ too tired to turn back. So he closed his eyes, and with a wavering sigh leaned forward—

"You're not _honestly_ about to drown yourself in a _puddle_, are you?"

Luigi gasped, wrenched his eyes open, scrambled backwards on his palms. Pit was above him, craned over with his head cocked and watching him curiously. "You!" Luigi snapped, cross.

"It's kind of pathetic, really," Pit continued, pretty gracefully ignoring him. "You're already gonna _off_ yourself, it's not gonna kill you to try and put a little _romance _into it, is it? I mean, well, sure, it's gonna kill you either way, but honestly, if it's the last thing you're ever going to do, I'd at least make a quasi-effort. People'll look back and be like, 'Oh yes, Luigi, I remember him, he's the one that drowned in a puddle.' Not the greatest of legacies, it's all I'm saying."

Luigi had already dusted himself, gathered the choked remains of his dignity, and begun staggering off. But Pit leapt ahead of him and caught his collar. "Hold up, now, I'm in no hurry."

A hit from the elbow and Luigi shook him off. "What are you even doing out here?"

Pit shook his feathers, and Luigi stepped back, a little put-off. "I'd figured it was pretty obvious from the whole comment about offing yourself," Pit said lackadaisically, "But I'm here to prevent that."

His next question finally managed to catch him a bit off-guard. "_Why_?"

"Why?" Pit sputtered. "_Why_? What do you mean, _why_? It would _suck_, that's why!" Luigi seemed unmoved, so with a huff, he continued, "It would create a huge deal of bother, what with having to console your grieving, hysterical family. They'll all want to be assured, over and over repeatedly, that you didn't do it to hurt them, and that you're in a better place, and that—God help us all—that it's not _their_ fault. And frankly Luigi, asking your friends to shoulder such grotesque lying on your behalf is an awful selfish burden to place on us, notwithstanding all the _other_ affairs you'll leave for us to set straight. Well, at least _one_ would be a lie, anyway; and another I wouldn't be certain of. But I could answer quite honestly that it wouldn't be _their_ fault. No, Luigi, _that_ act of glittering stupidity would be assuredly all you. And," Pit added as a sort of cherry-on-top, because at this point Luigi was finally beginning to look rightfully ashamed, "And while I'm not an expert on the matter, I'd certainly imagine, anyway, that this particular endeavor wouldn't be _pain-free_."

"Alright," Luigi said, readjusting his hat over his greasy hair. He straightened himself and examined Pit's face, completely stoic, but he didn't find much in Pit's titled, expectant little grin, either. He crossed his arms. "You just…suppose for a moment that I _do_ grant you all that. But so what? So what. My life has been a simple series of mediocrities and disappointments strung together, among the company of characters who forget me, by programmers who don't care. That's a fact, Pit, and I know you may live quietly, but you can't relate, and you can't even try. You don't know me, and you never can."

"Bull!" Pit shouted, and he stomped his foot in consternation. The great weariness that Luigi had felt at the cusp of this journey was beginning to return to him, and he sighed. But Pit, still craned over with his back twisted awkwardly in order to look at him eye-to-eye, was not about to leave it just at that. "I might not know you _now_, but I can figure you out. No offense, but you're no bomb rocket. You're a character. From a children's videogame. Your life isn't complicated, and it definitely isn't miserable, and of that I am absolutely certain."

Luigi did not have the gumption to try and deny any of that, although he didn't believe it either, and so he just stood silently, waiting for Pit to tire of him and leave. Pit, however, merely sighed.

"I'll broker you a deal," he said finally, straightening his crooked back with a little grimace. "I'll find a way to show you how valuable your life is, and you're going to listen. And then after that, you do whatever you want. Off yourself. Or don't." He considered that for a moment longer and added, "But don't drown yourself in a puddle, because that's just not a good choice from any angle."

Had either of them been mortal, they would have realized suddenly the flat chill in the air, and looked up to see that the white sky had just dropped a few dusty flecks of dry snow. Around them, the Kyotians pulled their coats tighter and quickened their paces. Pit and Luigi, however, were not mortal, and as it was, they looked only at the faces of one another. Luigi was tired; he had been tired for years. With that came a reluctance to fight anymore. And so, with only the vague hope that whatever he was about to be shown wouldn't consume all of the waning sunlight left in the day, Luigi took Pit's hand and allowed himself to be walked back to HQ.


	2. Chapter 2

It was late, clearly. Long shadows were falling in through the windows of HQ, and almost all of the employees had departed for the day. Only one nameless programmer remained, scrambling at his keyboard with one foot impatiently trying to walk away. Luigi felt a sudden surge of affection for him, despite not knowing his name and not having ever noticed him before. But that programmer was a bit like himself, he thought; harried, and unrecognized, and almost certainly wanting to be someone else.

He realized that Pit had stopped walking and was watching the man, curiously, from a few cubicles off. Pit cleared his throat. "Ah, Mr. Sodeyama?"

The programmer jumped and whirled, but when he saw Pit, he clutched his chest and sighed, slumping back down. "For a minute I thought you were Mr. Sasaki, come to yell at me about overtime."

Pit chuckled. "I think he actually dipped early today. Looked sick. It's the weather."

"Oh. Poor guy." The relief evident on Mr. Sodeyama's face undercut his words, however.

"This is Misato Sodeyama," Pit said to Luigi, who had been standing aside awkwardly and doing his best to remain invisible. "He agreed to shirk his duties today and assist me with a project instead." Pit turned back to Misato and shifted his feet. "But, ah, I'm going to go out on a limb here and guess that you haven't completed it?"

Misato turned red, and Pit added quickly, "I don't mean that underhandedly, of course. You've done more for me already than I probably should have allowed. I was asking more just…for the sake of knowing."

"In that case, Pitto, it's _not _done," Misato sighed, turning back to his computer. "But if you give me another hour, I should have it polished up passably well."

"Oh please, Mr. Sodeyama. Don't break your back on _my _account!" Pit grimaced. "It's getting late. Go home and finish the program later." But Mr. Sodeyama ignored him save from the holding of a finger up, and Pit sighed. "In that case, I'll take Luigi here, and we'll be in the AV room. I've wanted to have a talk with him anyway."

Misato nodded hastily, fingers clacking musically against the tired keyboard. Pit glanced regretfully at him before stepping sideways out of the cubicle and ushering Luigi down the hall.

"What was he programming for you?" Luigi asked, but Pit shushed him impatiently.

"You'll see it when he's done."

It was the most silent either of them had likely ever seen the AV room. Normally abuzz with left-on gaming consoles by designers and programmers who didn't have enough work to do, it was now dark, and still and cold. The furniture was badly beaten; spendthrift directors preferred, understandably, for their budgets to go towards powerful technology over creature comforts. It did not make tremendous difference to Luigi or Pit, who were both numb to everything in the physical world, as well as both lacking in an eye for aesthetics. They arranged themselves and stared silently out into the blackness. Flecks of noise danced there as if it were an overdeveloped photograph.

"Mario's noticed, you know," Pit said after awhile. "Peach and Daisy, too. Maybe even Yoshi. If you were going to insist upon slipping into a self-destructive spiral of loathing and despondency, the least you could have done was a better job of hiding it from the people who loved you."

Pit felt a clench of guilt after having said that. Luigi had buried his face in his palms and shook, and Pit realized that this was something that had been weighing on him since he had started nursing this misguided plan.

"Listen," he said, "That came off kind of harsh, maybe. My point's just that your life isn't just your own. You haven't got any right to try and end it."

"I won't, then!" Luigi finally snapped, and he caught Pit far enough off guard to make him start. "I won't, then! I won't! But that doesn't make anything any _better_, now, does it, Pit? It doesn't change the fact that I've got a joke of a career. It doesn't change the fact that I'm miserable." He stopped and focused his eyes in the darkness. "It doesn't change the fact that I'm a loser."

Pit was getting tired. Luigi's despair was draining, even for him. He curled himself on the ratty AV couch and shivered despite not feeling the cold. "You don't know how good you've got it," he muttered.

"No offense, Pit, but coming from you that means next to nothing."

He knew exactly what Luigi was getting at, but he also knew that it was only an attempt to incite him into leaving, and he wouldn't give him the satisfaction. He chomped his tongue in the darkness and had to content himself with cursing Luigi in his head. _One measly sequel, sure. And the release was American-only, sure. But I'm not the one trying to off himself, am I? So I guess I must have it better that you seem to think, mustn't I?_

They stewed silently like that for a long time. Out of the air, Luigi eventually said, "To never have existed." And when Pit failed to gratify him with a response, he interpreted it as interest and elaborated, "That's what would have been best. No worries about betraying anyone then. And spared from a lifetime of disappointments."

"That," Pit replied, "Is your stupidest idea to date. And I'm counting the whole thing about trying to drown yourself in a puddle, too."

"It's a good idea," Luigi said, but Pit snorted.

"You wouldn't be spared from anything, you moron. How could you possibly? You wouldn't even _be_."

"You're actually trying to argue," Luigi said slowly, "That a lifetime of pains, failures, and unfulfilled frustrations is _better_ than never having lived at all?"

"Yes."

"And you call _me_ the crazy one," Luigi sniffed. "That is the most callous thing that I have ever heard anyone suggest."

Pit yawned, and he stretched his wings. The tips of the feathers brushed against Luigi's nose, and he was annoyed. "There's more good than bad, Luigi. And that's true for virtually everybody. You don't know how to see the good things, though, and that's really what's so tragic."

Luigi stiffened. "Well, you're still crazy."

"I can live with that."

There was a knock at the door then, and an instant later it cracked open and a thin line of pallid light darted into the room. Misato Sodeyama was there, leaning against the door frame and squinting into the darkness. "Pitto?" he whispered, "Are the two of you still awake?"

Pit sighed, and he roused himself reluctantly. "Yes, Mr. Sodeyama. We are. Is the program ready?"

As a response, Misato flashed a jewel case at him. The sickly light from the hallway caught the edges of the disc and shone in iridescent color. Pit nodded, took a moment to blink himself fully lucid, and then he took Luigi's wrist.

"You do need to see this," he said, weary. "And I promise you it was worth the wait."


	3. Chapter 3

Mr. Sodeyama led them to the server room. It was comfortable and familiar for both of them. This was the one place that acted as a sort of middle ground for them between the physical world that they currently found themselves in and the virtual world from which they haled. Pit and Luigi watched as Misato warmed the computers and began the program that he had written with such dedication.

"I'll give, Pit," Luigi finally said while they were waiting. "What's all this about?"

Pit sighed and exchanged a resigned look with Misato. "Like I was saying, Luigi, it's no great secret that you've been off lately. You say that you don't believe in your own worth. I am going to try and prove it to you.

"The program that Mr. Sodeyama so kindly agreed to write for me is a simulation. It is a simulation that represents what could have been; a simulation that represents a Nintendo where you had never been created. You don't seem to think your life has contributed great shakes to anything. But this program is going to show you _exactly_ what we would lack today had it not been for your existence."

Luigi was suddenly very uneasy, and he took a step backwards. Pit had walked across the small room and opened a door that was simply labeled_ Platform_. Through the opening, Luigi could already see snow falling as the virtual world described by Misato's program was slowly taking shape.

"And it's not very pretty, Luigi," Pit added, "but I'm not going to let that trouble me. You need to see it all the same."

From the corner of his eye, Luigi caught Misato Sodeyama nod curtly. Pit suddenly leapt forward and grabbed onto Luigi's collar, yanking him backwards, and they both fell into the open simulation.

One hand on the door, Misato looked back in at them and shouted, "Take your time! I'll be waiting." And with that, the rectangle that led back into the real, physical world began to fold itself away into nothing. It disappeared, and there was no proof that it had ever existed. Only the smooth, unbroken boulevard that had been behind it remained.

Luigi numbly brushed the snow from his unfeeling arms and turned to glare at Pit, who was sitting scrunched and shivering violently. Only then did he realize something was amiss.

"I can't feel anything!" he shouted, and slapped desperately at his arms where the snow had lain a moment before. It was one of the most important distinctions of all, and the only that allowed them to travel between the games and the real world without forgetting which was which. The programs were virtual, as they were, and so they were able to feel them. That ability inexplicably gone, Luigi panicked.

"Of c-c-course you c-can't," Pit shivered. He shook a fine layer of snow off his wings. "This is a w-w-world where you d-don't exist, remember? How can you f-f-feel if you don't exist?"

Luigi thought that that was taking things much too literally, and the whole situation made him completely uneasy. It was a long time before he begrudgingly accepted it.

"Fine!" He snapped, "Hurry and show me whatever it is you wanted to show me so that we don't have to spend any more time here than we absolutely must!"

"Your best idea to d-date," Pit grumbled, and he scurried to his feet and bounded off down the thoroughfare, imparting footprints that would have been impossible in the real world. Luigi struggled to follow.

Pit ran for several blocks before stopping abruptly before a storefront. Luigi had to drag his feet to keep himself from hurtling into him. But all along the way a dozen questions had been swimming through his mind, so the first thing he asked was, "What is the date?"

"It's the same as it is in real life," Pit answered him absently. He glanced around the deserted street for a moment.

Luigi looked up. "What's this?"

"A toy store." Pit pressed a handful of money into his palm. "Go in and ask the man behind the counter for a Wii."

"I thought you said I didn't _exist_ in this world," Luigi said smartly, but Pit raised his hackles at him, and alarmed, he bolted inside.

It was a schlocky kind of place, with garish colors and a cacophony of mechanized squeals and sound effects. Luigi wasn't partial to toy stores, and he felt sort of foolish just standing around, but he knew there wasn't anything else he could do to ease the feeling.

The man behind the counter had been counting the bills in his cash register. He looked up at Luigi and grinned broadly, apparently not much caught off guard by the sight of a two-foot-tall, green-clad, bulbous-nosed Italian standing in his toy store. "Good evening sir! How are you tonight? Staying warm, I hope?"

Luigi shifted up to him awkwardly. "Ah, um, hello. I was supposed to, uh, ask you for a Wii?"

For some reason, the man seemed extremely put-off. He scrunched his eyes closed and shook himself exasperatedly. "Listen, buddy. I don't need the details. If you've gotta use the restroom, it's in the back."

"No!" Luigi snapped, agitated, "I meant the video game system!"

The man looked at him curiously. "Well, if it's a console you want, we have those. Which did you have in mind?"

"I already told you! A Wii!" The man sighed again, but before he could admonish him, Luigi huffed and continued, "The console's _name_ is Wii. W-I-I."

"Odd. I've never heard of such a thing." Luigi rose an eyebrow, and so the man, in an effort to be helpful, asked, "Can you tell me who the manufacturer is?"

"Of course. Nintendo."

The man chuckled darkly. "Well, doesn't that explain a lot. And here I thought the curiosity for that archaic stuff had all but dried up. I'd try the consignment shop if I were you. Go south on this road until you pass under the Hanshin Expressway. Two blocks further you'll find the place my buddy owns. It's classy. As consignment shops go, you know. If your Wii thing exists, they should have it there." When Luigi responded by staring at him blankly, the man added, emphatically, "Seriously, you can't miss the place. It's right next door to this real good noodle joint. I used to hit them up all the time, before the help got weird. But that's not really the point. How old is this Wii thing, anyway?"

"Just a few years!"

"Who'd have thunk it?" he said in airy disbelief. He shook his head, but as Luigi was walking out he shouted after him. "Hey guy, you get sick of messing around with the has-beens, come back, alright? I'll hook you up with an XBOX!"

Luigi shut the door smartly as he stepped back outside. He glanced sidelong at Pit, who was dancing from foot to foot trying to keep warm and generally making a big show out of ignoring Luigi's gaze. "I just thought you should know," Luigi said coolly, "That if you're honestly trying to suggest that Nintendo would have tanked without me, that that is the most absurd thing that I have ever heard, and that not even the most jaded, maladjusted fanboy could ever possibly agree with you. Seriously."

"I never said we would have _tanked_," Pit scoffed, but Luigi grabbed him by the scarf before he could qualify himself.

"And if there was anything rattling around in your half-baked angel skull that even passably resembled a frontal lobe, you would have made the weather nice instead of twenty degrees and snowing."

"Sodeyama's idea," Pit shivered. "Turns out he's quite dramatic."

"And even if Nintendo _would_ have tanked," Luigi continued, blatantly ignoring him, "I _still_ don't see how that's supposed to change my mind about anything."

Luigi paused for a moment, because this was the first of his comments that had managed to clearly deflate Pit. "Oh." He swallowed and shifted his weight. "Well. If…that's how you feel, that's how you feel, I guess." And for a full minute, the two of them stood in flat silence.

Eventually Pit regained enough muster to say, "That's not all I had to show you, you know."

Luigi was massaging his brow. "Whatever you need to do then, Pit. But please, do it quickly."


	4. Chapter 4

**AN:** HNNNNNNGGGGG. So much for keeping the chapters nice and short and bite-sized.

The two chapters following this are basically finished and will be uploaded over the next two days. Thanks again for everybody's support and patience.

* * *

They were only a few blocks from HQ. Misato had really done a fantastic job recreating the streets of Kyoto; the startling accuracy paired with the lifelike numbness made Luigi keep slipping and forgetting for odd moments that this world wasn't real.

Before he'd had to keep pace with him, Luigi had never realized how fast Pit was. He tore over the streets with a speed that bordered on precognition, and when at last he paused at an intersection it was only to allow Luigi to catch up.

"You don't…have to go…_that_ quickly…" Luigi wheezed.

Pit smirked at him. "My apologies, old boy. Just another block and we're there."

That couldn't be right. Luigi straightened and looked around. They hadn't even left the commercial district; they were barely halfway to HQ. He looked questioningly at Pit, who shrugged. "New location. That's how it goes. What can you do?"

The new location, it turned out, was a rented office in a building downtown. It was in a part of Kyoto that Luigi had never explored before, and it was terribly easy to understand why. There were few people walking the streets, and the dark buildings were somber and decrepit. Pit stopped in front of one and squinted up at the top-story windows.

"I don't get it," Luigi said, "Why would they move HQ _here_?"

"As I'm sure you've figured out by now, your lack of existence hasn't caused Nintendo to _tank,_ per say. You're not quite _that_ important, Luigi. But if it's any consolation, I don't imagine many of us are." Pit shook his head and nodded back at the entrance. "However, the company _is_ much smaller, enough so that one floor of this building gets the job done." He grinned darkly. "Why not go up and meet them?"

Luigi started. "Aren't you coming?"

"Of course not! How awkward."

"How awkward?" Luigi repeated, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Listen," Pit trilled, heaving an exasperate sigh and rolling his eyes. "_You_ are the one who's never existed in this world. _I_, on the other hand, have been existing just fine, thank you very much. I have a _history_ in this world, and I have a _history_ with Nintendo. If I go up there, everybody will recognize me."

"I understand _that_," Luigi snapped, face scrunched. "But how could that be a bad thing? Wouldn't they be happy to see you?"

"That's cute," Pit remarked dryly, and he with that he seized Luigi by the shoulders and pushed him roughly through the entry.

Luigi stumbled for a moment and caught himself. He wanted to turn back around and yell at Pit, but the door had already shut smartly behind him, so he resigned himself and looked around. The lobby was barren. There was a desk for a receptionist, but the job was (imaginably) thankless enough for the post to be vacant. Instead, there was a sheet of paper tacked to the front with a list of the tenants. Nintendo, it seemed, occupied most of the third floor, so he took to the stairs.

He was about to open the door into the main third floor corridor, but stopped with his hand on the doorknob, unsure of what to expect. The Nintendo he was familiar with began and ended each day with a flurry of activity, but if the company was smaller now, would that remain the same? What about the employees? Who would still be here? Would there be anyone unfamiliar? For that matter, what about the characters?

For a brief moment, he considered just lingering in the stairwell for awhile and concocting an elaborate fib to recite for Pit just to avoid the whole uncomfortable experience, but as soon as he'd decided this, the door swung open of its own accord, and Luigi looked up into the startled face of Satoru Iwata.

_Well, that answers one question, at least_, he thought, and despite himself, felt relieved. The feeling didn't last; Iwata was still staring at him, and it became unnerving enough that he had to look up and demand, "What?"

Iwata scrunched his brow. "Who _are_ you?" Before Luigi could reply, however, Iwata apparently changed his mind, shaking his head violently and saying, "No, no, and don't say you're an avatar, because I can see _that_, obviously. But I ought to tell you straight off. We're not hiring anybody right now. That includes programmers, and that _definitely_ includes original programs." Luigi tried to protest, but Iwata silenced him. "Now, please, I'm sure that your game pitch is quite good, and if you're lucky your game _itself_ might even be pretty good. But we just can't afford to gamble on a new franchise right now."

"Oh, _honestly_," Luigi snapped, and Iwata, curious, fell silent. "I'm not here for a job! I just want to talk."

That seemed to be an uncommon request. "Talk?" Iwata repeated, "About what?"

"What do you mean, 'about what?' The company, of course!"

Iwata was skeptical. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything!" Luigi cried, "What's going on here? What games have you been making? How well'd they do? Who works here? And I wanna know all that for the past _twenty_ years, too."

That did not in any way ease Iwata's skepticism. In response, he could only muster a single word: "_Why_?"

Luigi sighed. "For now, let's just say that I'm an avid, _avid_ fan."

Iwata considered him for a painfully long minute. He sighed and shook his head, bemused. "Well," he admitted, "_I_ haven't got any problem with it. If you're from another developing firm and you're trying to steal trade secrets, I'll tell you right now that you're in the wrong place. But otherwise, I mean, whatever. We'll talk to you." He shrugged and glanced down at Luigi with a little smirk of disbelief. "Been a little while since I've heard from an avid, avid fan, anyway."

He opened the door wider, and Luigi followed the apathetic man inside, wondering if he was really Iwata or (hopefully) another fellow who happened to look uncannily like him. That question, annoyingly, was answered moments later when Iwata opened a door that, according to the plate on the outside, belonged to his office.

Iwata sighed, knuckles rapping on the door frame, and he scrutinized Luigi, apparently trying to decide what to do with him. "Ehm, listen," he said awkwardly, not meeting his eyes. "There're a few calls I've gotta make first off, huh? Why don't you go and talk to the, uh, the, uh…." He gnawed his lip and snapped his fingers.

"Programmers?" Luigi guessed, but Iwata shook his head. "Avatars?"

"That's the one," he nodded. Iwata made a sweeping gesture towards the other end of the hallway. "They tend to…collect…in the breakroom. Probably keep you entertained for a little while, right?"

Luigi was still mystified by Iwata's mannerisms, and as a result, he wound up forgetting to retaliate at having been snubbed by him. Iwata shrugged, and before Luigi could protest, he darted back into his office and shut the door.

The very thought of traipsing through those silent hallways alone and without aim or intent was enough to glue the soles of Luigi's feet to the tile, but a sharp and sudden cry forced him off the ground.

"EIJI!"

Luigi wheeled. His eyes darted back and forth, but the hallway was deserted.

"Eiji, you promised me!"

But the door across from Iwata's office was opened a crack. Luigi glanced up and down the hallway once more before sneaking forward and looking inside.

There was a larger room, divided into four cubicles. He took a step inside and peeked cautiously into the closest one and felt his heart reel—he recognized someone. Or, at least, he _believed_ that he recognized someone. It was a strange feeling. Comprehension warred with cluelessness. Luigi found himself staring, scrunching his eyes.

The man named Eiji was sitting in front of a computer. He removed a pair of glasses, leaned forward on one elbow and massaged the bridge of his nose. He sighed, "I promised you I would _ask_, Link. And I did ask."

So it was Link. Sort of. Luigi scrutinized him again. Link's hair was red and his face was freckled. He was wearing tights and an undershirt both the color of rust. A simple shield adorned only with a red cross was in his grip, and Luigi realized suddenly that he was looking at Link as he'd been during the era of the original Legend of Zelda. He hadn't seen him like that in nearly twenty five years, and the memory had all but passed out of Luigi's mind.

It was impossible to tell what they had been arguing about, but Eiji's answer seemed to have deflated Link. He slumped back against the side of the cubicle, arms crossed. Eiji was staring vacantly at his monitor, one finger tapping rhythmically against the desktop. His mind was obviously not on his work.

"I _am_ sorry," Eiji added after a few minutes. "Really, though, you should have known better than to ask."

Luigi felt himself grimace and brace for an explosive retaliation, but Link didn't even react when Eiji had admonished him. Link gnawed on his lip and concentrated very closely on the toe of one boot. He was either thinking uncommonly hard or making a rather graceless show of taciturn.

Despite his bizarre and unpromising looks, Luigi still hoped that Link hadn't changed much. The Link he remembered was clueless, certainly, but he was also electric, a firebrand, outgoing and adamant; he had once hurled Mario off the roof during a squabble over whose cereal was better, for christsake. If the Link he remembered had had some sort of beef with Eiji Anouma, he would have argued loudly and purposefully (or at least until his attention deficit prevented that, in which case he would have probably just bombarded the man with a numbing downpour of questions, stories, and gossip that was so legendarily thick as to be the very reason Miyamoto himself had forbidden Link from ever uttering a single cogent word in any one of his own games).

But Link as he was now was apparently stifled. He was silent and guarded. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking, so what he said next was as surprising as the act of speaking itself.

"I shoulda dipped when Pit did, Eiji."

Anouma sighed. "You'll get another game again someday, Link. We just haven't got the budget for an original production right now. That's exactly what Mr. Iwata told me when I brought it up, and it's exactly what I was expecting to hear. We just need to be able to stand on our own again, huh? We gotta wait for the company to recover."

Eiji bit his lip immediately. Probably he was thankful that Link was so silent, otherwise he may have pointed out that there was no guarantee they would _ever_ recover.

To change the subject, Eiji added hastily, "Besides, what good's dipping ever done anybody? It's been years since Pitto's left, and nobody's heard of him since. He could be lying in a gutter for all we know, and a traitor besides."

"Could be," Link said quietly, "but at least he didn't have to watch everything rot first."

"Honestly, he's such a drama queen."

That had not come from Anouma or from Link, but instead from Iwata, who had snuck up behind Luigi to watch him with detached patience. He shrugged and scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "I can see you now," he said, and added in a pessimistic afterthought, "if you're still interested, anyway."

* * *

Iwata settled himself behind a small, disheveled desk and motioned for Luigi to take the chair opposite. He twiddled his thumbs, and after a moment asked him, "Where would you like me to start?"

Luigi had been hoping that Iwata would have just run with the explanation on his own, but if he wanted his hand held, Luigi thought with a sigh, he could accommodate that, too. "Start with Donkey Kong," he said, "You might as well. That's where it all began."

"Where all _what_ began?"

"Come on, now," Luigi said crossly, meeting his gaze with a sharp twist of the neck. "I'm talking about the whole _Mario_ franchise, for goodness' sake! Everybody knows that Donkey Kong was the first step!"

Iwata groaned and leaned the bridge of his nose into his upturned palm. He rubbed his cheekbones with an air of exhaustion. "I would never have agreed to talk to you had I known you were going to drag all _that_ up."

Luigi was perplexed. "Drag what up? You mean Mario?" A scowl from Iwata told him he was correct. He blinked and drew his eyebrows together. "I don't see how we can talk about Nintendo without talking about Mario, too. The two are all but synonymous."

"Be that as it may," Iwata said curtly, "we would all prefer to forget those games ever existed. Surely you must understand why it's a tender subject." But when Luigi didn't respond, Iwata had to grit his teeth and elaborate. "It cost us an awful lot. Notoriety, respect in the industry, customer loyalty, employees…and let's not even mention the _money_."

Luigi still didn't respond, to Iwata's dismay, but it was because he just speechlessly trying to conceive of how the game could have possibly gone so awry. Eventually he wagered his best guess. "Was there, like, some kind of obscure scandal that I've never heard of? You know, like drug trafficking? Money laundering?" Faced with Iwata's own speechless astonishment, Luigi added, "I don't know, that's all I got."

Iwata was incredulous. "No…" he said slowly, "The games were just really terrible." When Luigi continued to stare at him, he revised himself, with a sigh. "'Terrible' might be too strong of a word. But they didn't sell well at all, and I'm sorry if the truth goes contrary to your ideals, kid, but we _are_ a business, and even if Mario had been to gaming what Shakespeare was to literature, it wouldn't have mattered. They didn't sell, and that was a big problem."

By this time Luigi had managed to overcome his disbelief to shake himself and frame an outraged response. "But _why_ wouldn't they have sold? Those games were absolutely _brilliant_! They represented a huge leap in creative design! They were ingenious, addictive, thoroughly and thoughtfully made!" Through this heap of accolades, not even Iwata could maintain his despairing disposition, and Luigi caught him with a weak smile, for just an instant. "There was no _reason_ that they shouldn't have sold! They were too good to have not!"

A grim expression had returned to Iwata, and he got quietly to his feet and walked to the door. "Wait!" Luigi started, but he only poked his head outside and looked up and down the hallway. He turned back around, white-faced, and after carefully locking the door, returned to his seat. He leaned forward and looked Luigi in the eye very carefully.

"No one ever named an official reason, but if you want my opinion, I'll give it to you." Luigi nodded immediately, and Satoru leaned back, chewing his lip. "They weren't…different enough."

The silence was deafening. Luigi glanced around for a bit, waiting for Iwata to start laughing and poking him in the chest, but, no, Iwata was still very stony. Luigi felt something inside of himself snap.

"We _are_ talking about the same game here, right?" he blurted. "I mean, _different_? Are you _kidding_ me? You couldn't have taken Mario any further in the 'different' direction without just crossing the line into _schizophrenic_."

"I meant 'different' within the franchise," Iwata snapped, "not 'different' compared against everything else, you dolt."

He seemed prepared to pause again, but Luigi insisted, "By all means, elaborate."

Iwata sighed. "I'll start with Donkey Kong, then, because you're right; it _did_ all begin there. As I'm sure you know, it was a smash hit." Luigi felt himself perk. "That game was absurdly popular. Completely unprecedented. In retrospect, I think that might not have been so good for us."

"No?" Luigi said. "I can't imagine why you might ever wish less success for yourselves."

Iwata was staring through the walls of his office, gnawing distantly on his already ruddy knuckles. "We might if it was unsustainable," he decided, lowering his hand and re-focusing on Luigi. "And it _was_ unsustainable."

"Your success with Donkey Kong? You couldn't keep up with that success? Is that what you're saying?" Iwata nodded, and Luigi continued, "No offense sir, but that's really crazy. Success inspires itself. You guys had a good game in Donkey Kong, so you must have understood what constituted a good game. After that, it's just a matter of repeating yourself."

Luigi stopped when he realized that Iwata was chuckling at him. "What!"

"You make it sound so easy."

Luigi crossed his arms and snorted through his mustache. "Well."

"Well, it's not." Iwata's lips tightened into a thin line. "And I _know_ it's not because we _did _just that. Donkey Kong evolved into the arcade game Mario. And it did alright, but not as well as Donkey Kong before it. Mario evolved into Super Mario on our first modern home system. And it did okay, but not as well as Mario before it. It goes on and on, and I'll give you three guesses why."

Luigi drummed his fingertips together for a moment before nervously suggesting, "You guys got sloppy?"

"No!" Iwata snapped, and then apparently forgetting Luigi's remaining two guesses continued, "It was because we did exactly what you just said! We repeated ourselves. And it turns out that you can't follow a recipe for video games in the same way that you can follow one for rice krispies treats. Or whatever. You get what I'm saying. If your new game is just like the old game, why would anybody want to play it?"

Luigi said nothing, but Iwata hounded him. "Well? Why would they?"

"I guess they wouldn't," he said quietly.

Iwata was nodding. "They tried to rectify it, you know. In the next sequel. Super Mario 2. We thought we'd caught on to our little weakness before it was too late. So we changed it. Completely. The game was all but unrecognizable. It was as if Mario had simply been plucked out of his early worlds and dropped into a totally different game. We had hoped that Mario alone would be enough to sustain the franchise, but we were wrong. No one character is that powerful, I guess.

"We faced an uproar of scandalized fans and players. Mario had been too little for too long, and now this, a complete betrayal? If they felt like fools for trusting us, it was nothing compared to how we felt a few short years later when our much hyped last-ditch effort, Super Mario 3, was launched to an apathetic audience and greeted with all but nonexistent sales."

There was a tumultuous silence between them then. Luigi asked eventually, with trepidation, "So what then?"

Iwata smiled bitterly and parroted him, "What else? You saw Link and Mr. Anouma. Even if our other franchises might have had potential, no gamers would dare take a chance with them after the very public Mario fiasco. They were just other Nintendo games, after all. Just other let downs. No need to get excited. And so here we are today, existing quietly, waiting and hoping that people might eventually forget."

Luigi could feel himself sweating. He swallowed hard, and registered vaguely that Iwata was continuing to talk. "I guess it wouldn't have had to be that way. We should have been smarter about it, really. Surely it could have been possible to strike a balance somewhere between our two extremes, improving gameplay and adding new features while still honoring what made the game so popular to begin with. You know, I think the creator actually wanted to experiment with a two-player feature at one point, but he was shot down because it would have required introducing more characters, and they didn't want anyone else to rival Mario."

"They…they wouldn't have had to."

"What's that?"

Luigi was gripping the arms of his chair tightly. "They wouldn't have had to rival Mario. You could have introduced characters who were…obviously inferior to him."

"Now, I make my living dealing with you avatars," Iwata said, and that odd distant look had returned to his eyes as he wrapped his knuckles thoughtfully, "So I know what I'm talking about. No avatar could be content in such a place. You're all too proud. Egotists." He seemed to suddenly remember Luigi and he looked down with a grimace. "Uh, no offence." He wove a hand. "Anyway, I don't mind suggestions, but in this case it's ancient history. It won't do us any good at this point." Iwata allowed a moment to pass before, forcing it to be casual, asked, "How did you find us, again?"

Luigi was too floored to recall his weak charade. He gestured to the window. "Pit led me."

"_Pitto_?" Iwata suddenly snapped, and before Luigi could blink, he was on his feet, face pressed into the window. "He's _back_?" he sputtered against the glass. "What's he doing back here?"

Iwata wheeled and stared accusatorially at Luigi, who could not help but feel suddenly self-conscious. "What? I don't know. The guy's just showing me around. The way Link and Mr. Anouma were talking, huh, they made it sound like he ran off. What's with that?"

Electing to ignore him, Iwata grit his teeth and, grabbing Luigi roughly under the arm, marched back down to the ground level.

"PITTO!" he roared, knocking the door open. Pit had been huddled cross-legged under a street lamp, absently drawing pictures in the thin layer of snow, but when Iwata suddenly appeared a look of abject horror crossed his face and he immediately scrambled to his feet.

"No! Stop there!" Iwata cried, and before Pit could run away, he lurched forward and pinned him to the wall. The few passerby didn't much react, although they did give the scuffle a wide berth by passing to the other side of the street.

"Oof…Iwata, gerroff!" Pit's complaints were muffled where his face was shoved against the concrete.

Iwata wasn't letting up, however. "I just want some answers, Pit. That's all." The fury in Iwata's eyes undercut his calm tone, however. "You abandoned us! You just cut out when things began to head south! You tell me _why_, Pit! You owe us all that much."

One of Pit's wings struck Iwata in the stomach, and he huffed for a moment, bent double, but managed to keep his grip. "What did you want me to do?" Pit cried, "Stick around and watch everything turn to rot? No thank you!"

"That's that, huh?" Iwata shot back, "Never mind about the friends and coworkers you left behind. I guess they weren't worth it to you to try and tough it out!"

"And you're suggesting that watching them all march into failure is somehow more noble than allowing them to do so in private? People do rough things in desperation, and you're gonna hold it against me that I was disgusted?"

"That's not your call!" Iwata snarled. "We _created_ you! You're _ours_! You'll do what we _tell_ you, and if that means sinking with this company, so be it!"

Luigi had been unable to do anything throughout all of this, so paralyzed he was by sheer disbelief. But at Iwata's last comment, something inside him snapped. "That's never how it's been," he said suddenly, and Iwata and Pit paused for a moment. "I don't care _how_ desperate you are, it's no excuse to be at one another's throats!"

Iwata stared at him for a long moment, calculating. He looked shrewdly back to Pit. "He says you're the one who led him here. Who is he?"

Pit didn't even blink. "His name's Luigi. In a truer world apart from this one, he is Mario's brother and Nintendo thrives. This world is just a computer program invented for the purposes of demonstration. Luigi and I are probably the realest things in here. You're just an NPC."

Iwata shook his head, face screwed up into an expression of hurt and betrayal. "You're crazy, Pitto. You're an embarrassment to this company."

"This company," said Pit, "is an embarrassment to _me_." Pit shoved him away and re-adjusted his man-dress. "And if I may be quite frank Mr. Iwata, that's really saying something."

"Get out," Iwata deadpanned, having stepped aside and adjusted his tie. "And don't you dare show your face around here again."

"I've only been waiting twenty years to hear someone finally tell me that." Pit took Luigi by the shoulders and was about to walk away, but he looked backwards and called out to him. "Things shouldn't have turned out like this, Mr. Iwata. You're a good man. You work hard. It shouldn't be in anonymity."

Iwata said nothing. He only scowled until Pit had turned back around and ushered Luigi away. When the two of them had rounded the far corner and were out of sight, he brushed the snow out of his hair and walked back up to his office, silently wondering about the supposed world of Pit's delusions where his company was successful, and silently hoping, despite the threat, that the two of them would someday return anyway.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN:** Sorry about my failure to update as per promised in the previous chapter. There was an error within FFN that is now happily resolved. Thanks for everybody's patience! Last chapter should be up by tomorrow. *crosses fingers*

* * *

"_What_ was all that about?"

Pit shuffled next to him, head bent. "I thought it was pretty self-explanatory."

"But that was _insane_," Luigi insisted, "Iwata's not even _like_ that."

"Of course he isn't. He overreacted. As he thinks about it, I expect he'll probably regret it. But that's not anything for you to worry about, because you don't exist."

Luigi, startled, was forced to acknowledge the unreality of his situation that he had erstwhile forgotten. "There was a lot I still wanted to ask, you know," Luigi grunted at him. "But you had to go and get us kicked out."

"_You_ got us kicked out," Pit snapped. "There was a _reason_ I told you I wasn't going up there." He thought for a moment. "But if there's still more you want to know, there are ways we can find out. What else would you have asked?"

He stopped abruptly to stare at him and wait for a response. Luigi balked. The most pressing question on his mind was one that he was terrified of asking. He refused to put it to Pit. He wasn't sure he wanted the answer. But his mind had frozen, and he could not think of a suitable question to ask in its place.

The silence dragged out. Pit cocked his head. Luigi fumbled with his hands and looked around, desperately scraping for ideas. "I, uh…well…"

Pit shook a dusting of snow from his wings again, and Luigi finally pulled together a facsimile question: "I wanted to know what the last console was!"

The deafening silence from his companion was plenty to assure Luigi that he did not for one instant believe that had been his actual question. "The last console," Pit repeated.

Luigi shrugged. "Just to, you know. See how far we got?"

For a long moment, Pit just stared at him, and Luigi was terrified, thinking that he would demand the truth. But eventually he shrugged and said, "I suppose we'd better pay a visit to that consignment shop your friend from the toy store mentioned."

"I never told you about that!" Luigi snapped, but Pit just grinned at him, and Luigi realized that he didn't _have_ to have told him. Pit had probably written the toy store owner's dialogue himself.

Pit didn't seem to be in any terrible hurry to get there. Rather than running like he had earlier, he led Luigi at the rate of a mere plod. He was also silent. Luigi wished he would talk to him. It was too difficult trying to convince himself that the other-Nintendo they had just left wasn't actually real.

That of course meant that Pit had never abandoned them, like program-Iwata had vengefully claimed. He hadn't abandoned them, because they weren't real. So-called Super Mario had not been a colossal failure because it hadn't existed. These and other things Luigi kept repeating to himself, over and over again. His new greatest terror was forgetting the falseness of the program and mistaking it for reality.

Despite all this, he could not keep a creeping doubt at bay, and as they walked along the streets and through the snow, Luigi wondered just how terribly realistic it was to suppose that without him Nintendo would have been severely crippled. His instinct told him "not very."

There had been a time, however, long ago, when his brother had argued in a way hauntingly similar to Iwata's explanation. The first game Luigi had shared with Mario had been Mario Bros., and he put his absolute all into it. He wanted to do well. There is a certain dignity in ambition, a dignity in striving to perform honorably. And when his abilities had proven comparable to Mario's own, he'd felt truly proud. The truth was that he was very ambitious. He always had been. Mario was important to him, but he also wanted something more than to be a mere sidekick. He wanted to apply himself, to become something bigger. He worked harder.

Luigi had secretly hoped that his good work would earn him a larger role in Super Mario Bros., but to his dismay, the part he played in that game was more minor than his role in the predecessor. He was furious; it hadn't been as if his first performance had been sub-par. The game had flourished, and in no small part (he was willing to admit) because _he_ had been in it. But they were still unwilling to let him be anything greater than Mario's skittish brother. There was no one else there to fill the part, but how much good could he possibly do in such a position?

"Heroes aren't terribly interesting on their own," was the response Mario had given him one afternoon when Luigi had finally voiced his resentment. "Nobody is, for that matter, but bear with me. I might be the figurehead, but I'm certainly not the only thing holding this franchise together. Being undersung doesn't make you unimportant."

He had, at long last, been eventually granted his own game in Luigi's Mansion. He had been delighted; or rather relieved; until he discovered what the intended theme of the game was. Yet again, he would be a coward. A mere sniveling, pathetic craven whose only mission was to save his better-loved brother and return him to his rightful place of lording over the rest of them.

It was more than disappointing. It was _insulting_. After years of dutifully performing behind his older brother, years of unwavering loyalty, it was like a slap in the face. That day was forever etched into his memory. He had never been the same afterwards. It was the day that he'd realized his only dream, to become more than what he was, had already died.

Perhaps program-Iwata was not being so farfetched when he said that avatars were too ambitious to be truly happy in positions of little prestige. Luigi had challenged him, adamantly even, but Iwata's words echoed back to him as being the story of his very life. It occurred to him indistinctly, and accompanied by a subtle pang of nausea, that his current misery might have been constructed from little more than his own selfishness...

There was suddenly a huge rush of sound. Luigi stopped abruptly and blinked upwards, stupefied, as the Hanshin Expressway roared above them. Pit was several feet ahead of him, and he stopped as well. The feathers on his wings etched short scratches into the fresh snow with an eerie grace. He squinted back at him. "Is everything alright, Luigi?"

Luigi nodded gruffly. Pit heaved a sigh. "It's just around the corner up here. Don't fail on me yet."

Despite the toy store's owner's claims to the contrary, the consignment shop they found did not seem particularly classy. It was small and glum and had dirty windows. Luigi was afraid to go inside, especially alone, but he had a nasty feeling that that was exactly what Pit was about to ask him to do. He patted nervously at his pants, looking for the wad of money Pit had given him earlier, but embarrassingly, it seemed to have vanished.

Pit cocked his head at him. "Misato must've forgotten to program your inventory." He sighed and shook his head. "Well, it's not as if it matters. The money's not real either."

He glanced at him up and down, and asked gently, "Would you like me to come with you this time?" Luigi's face reddened as he realized he must have looked as nervous as he felt, but Pit didn't give him a chance to try and get out of it. He took him firmly by the wrist and pushed open the door.

A bell jingled overhead, but that was the only movement in the building. Dusty shelves were piled with dusty merchandise. Behind the counter there was no one to be found. Luigi looked questioningly at Pit, but he was avoiding his gaze.

"Odd," he said, voice completely absent of surprise. "If he wasn't going to be here, why leave the door unlocked?"

"Maybe he forgot," said Luigi, trailing a sidelong look at a glass display case filled with tarnished jewelry.

Pit seemed unconvinced by that possibility. Silent as a cat, he leapt on top of the counter and began poking around for clues. Luigi didn't share his apparent easy feeling with the place, and he took a step backwards, wringing his hands.

"Are you sure you ought to be doing that, Pit?"

"Relax. It's not like I'm trying to steal something. I'm just figuring out where the guy is." He poked his head up suddenly, a pamphlet pinched in his fingers. "Bingo!"

"What's that?"

"A menu. I think our friend's gone next door to pick up his lunch."

* * *

It was the noodle shop the man from the toy store had mentioned in passing. The interior was poorly lit, and hazy from cigarette smoke. Given the deserted state of the streets outside, it was surprisingly busy. Several people were seated around, engaged in quiet conversation and stirring their lunches absently. It seemed, actually, refreshingly calm and normal. It seemed that way, rather, aside from the brouhaha behind the counter.

A frazzled-looking man was leaned there, tapping both his toe against the floor and his fingers against the tile. He kept glaring at his watch and growling something to the woman at the register, who was looking more and more distraught and kept lobbing all manner of threats and curses towards the backroom. Luigi's first instinct was to stay back and wait for the bedlam to die down, but Pit walked right up to them, so he grimaced and followed.

"Excuse me," he said brightly to the red-faced, impatient man. The man looked down at Pit with an expression normally reserved for people who commented about his mother's bulldog-jaw and myriad warts. If Pit was off-put, he did a great job of hiding it. "Are you by any chance the man who owns the consignment shop next door?"

"I don't see how that's any business of yours," the man grunted in reply.

"Well, it's not, of course," Pit continued. "But I wanted to tell you that you left the door unlocked and the register unattended."

The man grit his teeth and hissed back at him in undertone: "I _know_ that. I wasn't expecting this would take so long."

"My friend and I had a few questions for you anyway, once you return," Pit said, nodding towards Luigi, who was loitering several feet away and trying to remain anonymous. "Let us do a favor for you. Return to your store, and we'll pick up your order for you once it's ready."

It was obvious that the man was dubious of this proposal. He chewed his lip in frustration, but after casting one more look towards the cashier, who shrugged apologetically, he spat, "Fine! We'll do that, then!" and stormed away before they could say anything else.

Not a second after the door had closed behind him however, there was a huge commotion in the kitchen; the sound of a few pans hitting the floor. Glasses on the counter rattled. The cashier rubbed her temples exasperatedly. Then came hurried shouts of, "It's ready! It's ready!"

_That voice_. Luigi felt his blood run cold. Instinctively he tried to step further backwards, but it was as if Pit had already realized what was happening. He caught him by the wrist and held him fast.

A man burst through the kitchen door, hastily clutching a brown paper bag against his chest. The cashier snatched it from him and dropped it onto the counter. "That was Gomo!" she growled. "_Gomo_! A regular! He's been coming here for _years_, and you frustrate even _him_! You're impossible!"

The man only sighed, and as he turned away from her to wipe his sleeve against his brow, Pit and Luigi were able to look clearly into the unmistakable face of Shigeru Miyamoto.


	6. Chapter 6

"Well, you know what they say," he said lightly, grinning, "Delayed noodles are eventually good. But bad noodles are bad forever." The annoyed cashier could only shake her head again.

"Just please head back, Shigeru. Before the orders pile up again." Miyamoto, however, didn't seem very bothered by her, and he squinted out into the restaurant.

"Goro, hm?" he mumbled. "Where'd he go, then? Don't tell me he left without his order!"

The cashier accusatorially thrust a finger down towards Pit and Luigi. "_They're_ taking it to him."

Miyamoto looked down at them, and his expression morphed from surprise, to shock, to horror. "You!" he hissed, eyes locked on Pit. "What do _you_ want?"

"Hello, Mr. Miyamoto," Pit said casually. "Been a while, hasn't it?"

Miyamoto, stunned, simply tripped across his words for several moments before finally managing to spit, "I…well…never mind that! What are you doing here _now_?"

Pit's lips were pulled into a hard line. "My friend wanted to talk to you."

Miyamoto's head immediately snapped over to Luigi. His eyes passed over him without the merest hint of recognition. Luigi felt as if he'd been punched in the stomach. "Why? Who is he?"

Pit sighed. "It's easiest to say that he's a fan of your…ah, _past work_."

"Shigeru," the cashier cut in, drumming her fingers against the register, "The orders…?"

"Ack!" Miyamoto silenced her, holding up a finger. Despite himself, Luigi felt a momentary surge of pride. "Gimme a minute, would ya?" The cashier gave a huff of disapproval, but when Miyamoto swung his legs over the counter and seated himself on a bar stool, she didn't complain.

Miyamoto squinted at Luigi, who in turn was watching him with open, miserable awe. "What's this, now? You're here to complain about a few old videogames, is that it?"

"No!" Luigi cried, and Miyamoto leaned back, apparently surprised. "No! Never! But…how did you wind up _here_?"

Miyamoto looked at him as if he had asked why he couldn't breathe underwater. "You don't honestly think I'd still be with _Nintendo_ after that fiasco, do you?"

Luigi grappled with his words. "I don't understand! The games were so good!"

"That's your first problem!" Miyamoto cried, "They _weren't_ good, and anybody could tell you so!"

"_I_ couldn't!" Luigi countered. "Those games were marvelous, and there's no reason why you shouldn't be able to see that."

"Don't," Miyamoto said stiffly. He was pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes shut. "I can accept criticism, thank you very much. I don't imagine I would have even gotten as far as I had if I couldn't. Don't patronize me. It's only embarrassing."

Luigi was desperate. "But I'm not _patronizing _you!"

Miyamoto nodded bitterly, uncaringly. "In that case, thanks, I guess. For what it's worth." He shook his head. "But your opinion isn't going to change Super Mario. And it's not going to change the past, either. If you'll excuse me."

Silently, he got to his feet, bowed hastily and retreated back behind the counter. Luigi watched open mouthed until he'd disappeared from view. He was shaking against his will. He felt as if his head had suddenly become very hot. Something had settled against his throat from the inside, pressing hard, and he looked straight up, blinking back tears and wondering how much longer Pit's horrible program could possibly drag.

Pit's hand pressed against his back. "Luigi," he whispered gently, "you really have been more important than any of us could say. Please believe me. You may not be a big shot like Mario, but it's been through your help that he's been able to succeed. No one person is the sole purveyor of success for anything. It's a matter of teamwork. It always is. Everyone contributes something, whether they get to be Shigeru Miyamoto or have to be Misato Sodeyama."

Misato! Luigi was suddenly on his feet. He climbed up the barstool and shouted back towards the kitchen. "Shigeru!" he cried, "Shigeru, wait a sec! Let me ask you one more thing!"

To Luigi's profound relief, Miyamoto suddenly reappeared in the doorway. Luigi could feel himself shaking. "Please," he said, "Do you know where Misato Sodeyama is in this reality?"

For a moment, Miyamoto only stared at him. But then he raised an arm and he pointed out into the lobby. From the corner of his eye, Luigi could see that the cashier was pointing as well. The room had fallen eerily silent, and Luigi turned to see that all the patrons of the restaurant had paused to point as well. Sitting alone at one of the tables and stirring a cup of virtual coffee was Misato Sodeyama. The _real_ Misato Sodeyama, having physically walked onto the immersion platform and into his own program.

The spell was broken immediately. Juxtaposed against Sodeyama, the world Pit and Luigi found themselves standing in was clearly and undeniably illusory. There were obvious polygons in the graphics. These had always been there, but Luigi had simply failed to recognize them before. The movements of the program-people, when mirrored against the natural grace of a living person, suddenly seemed false and jerky. Misato smiled at them tiredly.

"I'll take it you two are ready, then?"

Luigi nodded, stupefied. The world around them began to dissolve. Characters, textures, and environment all blended into one another. The world swirled slightly on its axis. Just before everything faded to white, Luigi saw for a final time the face of program-Miyamoto. He was smiling at him with a silent pride.

And like that, the world was gone. The final vestiges of the program faded into the air, and Luigi and Pit found themselves back in the physical world, both completely numb, and standing in an empty, plain white room. Luigi caught sight of a hand on his shoulder, and startled, he looked up to see Sodeyama. He gently led both of them outside, back into the server room.

Then they did nothing. All three of them were still too dazzled. They had found a comfortable place in the lobby, and Misato, exhausted, had gotten himself a cup of _real_ coffee to nurse. They had all expected that they would talk, but despite that, none of them did.

"Do you," Luigi began finally, not sure if he could find the right words. Pit and Misato looked at him expectantly, and he swallowed. "Do you, you know…really believe all that?"

They waited for him to elaborate, so he did. "You know, that we're…_all_ important, I guess?"

"You don't get important by doing nothing, of course," Misato said. "But as long as you work hard, I think that no matter _who_ you are in a project, you can rest assured that you _are_ important."

"And you really ought to be recognized more than you are, Luigi," Pit said, nodding eagerly. "But that's not usually the way these sorts of things work, I'm afraid. But don't let it get you down. You work hard no matter what anybody says. Or no matter what anybody _doesn't_ say, rather."

"For what it's worth, _I _know you're important," Misato said, sipping his coffee.

"Me too," Pit nodded eagerly.

Luigi wanted desperately to thank them, but he could not have possibly framed the gratitude he felt into adequate words. As it was, he was too moved to trust himself even to look at them. He was mortified that they might think he was ungrateful, but as it was they did not think that at all. They chuckled at his evident discomfort and knew that this was the most accurate way he could express himself.

"It's _morning_," Pit said stupidly, sitting up suddenly and looking at the warm orange beginning to leak between buildings. He looked sympathetically at Misato. "You're going to get in trouble if somebody realizes you've been here all night."

"Oh, don't worry about that," Misato sighed. "Nobody's going to be coming in." Pit still looked skeptical, so he added, "It is a holiday, after all."

* * *

**AFTERWORD**: I don't honestly think I'll get in trouble for this dinky little fan story, but I feel inclined to say, just one more time, that the characters in this story who resemble real people are used in a 100% fictitious way.

However, I was mostly inspired by an interview I once found with the real-life Shigeru Miyamoto. During the course of it, he stated that he was a little embarrassed by his fans singling him out. He insisted that the games were the result of teams of people working together, and that their success was something that he would never dare take credit for alone.

I admit I found his modesty moving. I began thinking more about this idea of success-as-a-team-effort. Just how important is it to be recognized for contributions?

Very, I think, at least for the sanity of the contributing individual. You can find examples everywhere. Blood donors receive stickers. Fast-food joints and grocery stores often hold drives where contributors get to write their names on a tearaway and tack it to the wall. People who give sums to schools and charities may have their names displayed on the building. Recognition is proof from the outside that an individual has done good and is good. It is reaffirmation of one of our most abstract and yet oddly integral desires: to feel as if we matter.

A spoof of _It's a Wonderful Life_ using Luigi was something I had wanted to do long before, and these fresh revelations were perfect to tie the parody together and make it relevant.

Anyway, I didn't mean to get so embarrassingly quasi-intellectual on you all. In closing, I also want to say that the main Misato Sodeyama exists in real life. He worked as a general programmer for New Super Mario Bros. Wii, and that is absolutely the only thing I know about him (him?). I found the credits online and just picked a name off that I thought sounded nice. So Mr. Sodeyama, if you've stumbled across this somewhere out there and are wondering what the flying pastrami, I hope this clears things up a little.

Thanks for reading! I guess it's time for me to crack my knuckles and start thinking about Fatty and the Kid 3.


End file.
